The Nothlit Files
by L. Emmist
Summary: Tobias was not the last nothlit of the Animorphs -- Rated for action and angst. Republished. --
1. Rachel's Story: Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own Animorphs at all. KAA does. You knew that, right? Because if you thought I owned it, we need to have a talk.  
  
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Definition: This starts shortly after #34.  
  
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The Nothlit Files  
  
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Compiled by The Drode  
  
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My name is Rachel, and I guess it's all my fault. I blew the mission. Okay. Technically it wasn't a mission. Technically, we shouldn't have done it at all. But that doesn't matter. Nothing really matters anymore. Not for me.  
  
I'll bet you think you know what's going on. I'll bet you think that I've been infested. That a Yeerk, one of the sluglike aliens that are invading our planet, has slithered through my ear, wrapped itself around my brain, and is now watching my every thought and controlling my every action.  
  
Nope. That's not what happened. Let me go back to the beginning. Back to when I had a life.  
  
Cassie and I were walking through the pasture below her barn. I was slowly destroying a weed as I listened to her. She was talking, her eyes fixed on the ground, mouth twisted in a frown.  
  
What a beautiful day to ruin my life.  
  
"I don't know," Cassie sighed. "I mean, yes, I should go to this picnic. It's a tradition. But I don't think Mom and Dad understand how badly I want to see Edda Norrington."  
  
"Okay, I still don't get what the big deal with Edda Norrington is," I said. "I mean, yes, she works with animals. But you've been each of the animals she's worked with, Cassie!"  
  
She shook her head. "Not even close. She's been all over the world. She's an expert on everything from deep sea anglerfish to arctic terns! And do you know how many nature preserves she's founded?"  
  
"Twenty-three. You told me."  
  
"What better use for a couple million dollars than that? I mean, most people would have used it on something totally selfish." She stopped, and toed a dirt clod. "And she's going to be here tomorrow!"  
  
"So explain it to your mom and dad. They'll understand."  
  
"Rachel, we've been having this annual picnic since I can remember. They'd have a heart attack and die if they knew I was trying to skimp out of it. Mom is almost as much of an Edda fan as I am, but she's setting that aside for this picnic. It's that important."  
  
"Oh. So, you basically need to be in two places at once."  
  
"Basically," she mumbled.  
  
"Hey, I know!" I said. "Why don't you get the Chee to cover for you?"  
  
She shook her head. "No good. It's not important enough. They lead lives of their own. They can't impersonate us unless it's something really big."  
  
"You asked?"  
  
"I asked."  
  
I bit my lip. And that's when the idea came. I don't know where it came from. Hell, I guess. "Okay," I said. "So how about I cover for you?"  
  
She looked up. "How?"  
  
"Do you trust me with your DNA?" I asked.  
  
Her eyes got wide. "Rachel . . ."  
  
"I know, I know, I know," I said. "Jake wouldn't approve. But this is really important to you, and it's not like we're going anywhere dangerous!"  
  
"But . . ."  
  
"I've been your best friend forever. I can impersonate you for a day. This is Edda Norrington we're talking about here."  
  
I could see the wheels turning. She knew what I was thinking. It would be perfectly simple for me to morph her and go to the family picnic for her. Meanwhile, she could go off and see Edda Norrington. I could see her waffling on the brink of indecision.  
  
"C'mon. Are there trees near your picnic spot that I can demorph in?"  
  
"Yes . . ." she said tentatively.  
  
"Then no problem," I said. "We're gold. I'll say I'm hanging out with you for the day. You and I make the switch early in the morning. You come back that night. Hey, presto, we both had fun, made your parents happy, and didn't even endanger our lives doing it!"  
  
I had convinced her. I could see it in her eyes. She smiled. "Rachel, you're crazy. We can't do this."  
  
"Sure we can. I'll meet you at five o'clock tomorrow morning. Have some suitably awful outfit ready, or I'll dress nice and your family will know you're gone."  
  
"If Jake finds out . . ."  
  
"He won't find out, you goofball."  
  
Her smile broadened. "Thanks, Rachel!"  
  
"No problem."  
  
No problem. Hah. Right. 


	2. Chapter Two

We made the switch without a problem. I flew to her house in owl morph. When I wasn't in mortal peril, that morph always made me feel good. Owls totally rule the night. And the early morning.  
  
We had been having a week of gorgeous weather. It was a beautiful day for a picnic. When I fluttered into Cassie's window, the sun was just rising. The air was cool in that "Don't worry, I'll warm up," kind of way. Butterflies were rising into the breeze off the dewy grass. The sky was cloudless, and pink with the arrival of the day.  
  
After ignoring Cassie's cold feet, acquiring her quickly, and kicking her out of her room, I slid the window shut.  
  
I got goose bumps as I began the morph. We Animorphs almost never morph people. It feels wrong. We're fighting against aliens who use the bodies of others. To morph people feels like sinking to their level. We never morph people without their consent, except in absolutely desperate situations.  
  
I thought that Cassie's conflict was cause enough to bend our rules. I had her consent. In fact, she was grateful. And I was using it for a good reason. To make her and her parents happy. If you're going to morph a human, what better conditions can you get than that?  
  
The morph was over very quickly. It wasn't complex. Not compared to almost any of the other morphs I've done. My skin darkened. My hair tightened into short, thick curls, then turned black. I shrunk a little. My body shape changed.  
  
"Hmm, gotta talk to that girl about these ten pounds," I said, and heard Cassie's voice come out of my mouth.  
  
That was it. The morph was done.  
  
I picked up the clothes she had laid out. I stared at them. Poor Cassie. I knew she had done her best to get me something that looked nice. But … wow. I held the overalls up. They stopped six inches above my ankles. The shirt was a tent. The socks were the same style, but were two different lengths. I rubbed my forehead, laughing quietly at the girl.  
  
Okay, fine. I would wear the clothes. I was supposed to be Cassie. And no matter how much I might want her to, Cassie couldn't develop a fashion sense overnight. Besides, I knew her wardrobe. There wasn't much to work with. The few outfits I helped her buy were sitting at the bottom of her dresser. Worn once out of deference to me, then stuffed away out of sight.  
  
I smiled. The smile felt funny on my face. Everything I did felt slightly different, a little weird. I wasn't at home in her body. But that was okay. I wasn't supposed to be.  
  
There was a light knock at the door. "Cassie," Cassie's mom called from the hall, "Are you up?"  
  
"Yeah, Mom!" I responded. "I'm up!"  
  
"Okay. Go take care of Horace, then c'mon in and help me pack for the picnic!"  
  
"Okay!"  
  
I tugged on Cassie clothes, brushed my hand over my short hair. Then I added the finishing touch. I had "borrowed" Jordan's digital watch, and brought it with me. It was one of those new ones – elegant enough, but with a dozens of different functions. I clicked it to timer and pressed the button. It began to count down. One hundred and ten minutes left in morph. I left myself a ten minute margin just in case.  
  
I bounced down the stairs, through the kitchen, into the mud room, where I tugged on Cassie's big boots. Her dad poked his head in. "Morning, Cassie!"  
  
"Hey, Dad," I smiled.  
  
"You going to take care of Horace?"  
  
"Sure am."  
  
He left, probably to find coffee and Cassie's mom, and I headed out to the barn. Horace was a temporary guest in Cassie's family. He belonged to a local stable, but had broken his leg. The stable owner knew Cassie's family, and had asked them to treat him. Cassie told me I could just feed him, and that she'd take care of the rest. I had been friends with Cassie long enough to know how to feed a horse.  
  
Horace nickered when I came in. I swear, some animals can see straight through a morph. "Shhh, boy, it's just me," I said. "It's just . . . just me." I had been about to say it was just Rachel. But I left it at "me." You never know who could be listening in. And I didn't want to say I was Cassie in the empty barn. I didn't really want to lie to the horse.  
  
It's weird. I didn't mind deceiving Cassie's parents, Jake, everybody. But I couldn't bring myself to say, "It's just Cassie," to a horse.  
  
The human mind, who can fathom?  
  
I finished up with Horace and came back into the house. "Cassie, wash your hands and help me pack!" Cassie's mom yelled.  
  
"Coming!" I washed my hands, then came into the kitchen.  
  
For the next hour, we pulled out what looked like all of the food in the kitchen, and cooked up a feast. I kept having to say, "Mom, remind me how to whip this cream," or "Mom, I forget how many eggs to add here."  
  
"Really, Cassie!" she waved her spoon at me threateningly. "Are you gonna forget all the cooking tips I ever taught you?"  
  
"No," I said. "I'm just a little forgetful today."  
  
When all the peeling, chopping, mashing, mixing, boiling, baking, whipping, and packing was done, it was nine AM. I had gone to the bathroom to demorph twice already, was covered in flour and food scraps, exhausted, and very happy. Armed with three picnic baskets, we loaded up "Mom's" station wagon and trundled off towards our traditional picnic spot. I hoped Cassie was having as good a time as I was.  
  
If I had only known. 


	3. Chapter Three

"Honey . . . Cassie . . . that was some of the *finest* food I have ever tasted in my life," Cassie's dad said. "It wasn't only insanely delicious, but there was so much of it that I think if I try to get up right now I'll split into two, and both halves will just wobble on the ground like happy Jell-O."  
  
Cassie's mom and I exchanged a grin. We listened eagerly as "Dad" waxed eloquent about the food. It was an old family tradition I had witnessed many times before, but it was always different, and always entertaining.  
  
"I mean, we didn't just cover the five major food groups, here. We covered all fifteen minor food groups. We delved into food groups that are generally reserved for God's own angels. I don't know what you two did in the kitchen, but I know there was something supernatural at work, because that pumpkin pie was outside of anything mortal man was meant to enjoy."  
  
We laughed. "Keep this up, sugar," said Cassie's mom. "I'm liking this."  
  
He sat up, glad for his favorite audience. "I mean, can we just talk about the potatoes? We had sweet potatoes, we had mashed potatoes, we had baked and scalloped potatoes. We had french fries, we had potato salad, we had potato chips. We had every form of potatoes imaginable, and each one was a symphony on the tongue. And let's not forget, ladies, that potatoes have got to be the most boring food in the world! Now, about that meat you cooked, baby . . ."  
  
I closed my eyes, listening to "Dad's" warm, laughing voice. He went on for a long time like that. Then he said that he needed dessert, and he and Cassie's mom were quiet for a little while. I wasn't paying much attention. I was so full. Given that I wouldn't gain weight in morph, I had eaten a more than I normally would have. I didn't want to move. The spring sunshine had warmed the blanket, and I felt heavy peace press gently down on me.  
  
I made an effort to move my lips. "Hey, Mrs . . ." I caught myself. "Mom?"  
  
There was a pause, then, laughingly, "Yes, Miss Cassie?"  
  
"Wake me up in half an hour, okay?"  
  
"Sure, sweetheart."  
  
"Thanks," I said. In an hour, I would need to demorph. Better leave some extra time on the side.  
  
I fell asleep.  
  
And I ended my life.  
  
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A mosquito bit through my dreams. I slapped at my arm, and rolled over. A few seconds later, it was there again, biting me. Again, I slapped it. But it had brought company. I felt other stings on my skin. I tried to ignore them. Tried to get back to the dreams I'd been having about flying with Tobias. Such a nice dream. Maybe tomorrow, I could go flying with him. Nothing but he and I. Feathers, wind, and spirit. I tried to keep dreaming. But it was no good. I was awake.  
  
I stood up quickly, shaking the insects off me. Why were my arms brown? Had I been in the sun that long? No, wait. I had morphed Cassie. I was covering for her while she was at that lecture. I remembered.  
  
I rubbed my eyes, and got my bearings. Cassie's mom and dad had apparently decided to join me in my nap. They lay next to each other on the picnic blanket, smiling peacefully in the late afternoon sun.  
  
Hang on . . . late afternoon?  
  
I looked down at my watch. Four o'clock. When had I fallen asleep? I couldn't remember.  
  
Oh, no.  
  
I looked down at Cassie's parents. They were fast asleep. I decided to take the chance and demorph there. It was a minor enough morph that they wouldn't be woken up, and I didn't know that I had time to run for the trees. I pictured myself, and concentrated.  
  
Rachel. Rachel. Blond hair. White skin.  
  
I looked down at my arms. Brown skin. Oh, no.  
  
Rachel. Tall. Blonde hair.  
  
I stayed the same sight. I tugged at my hair, but it was still short, still black, still wound in thick, natural curls. No. No, no.  
  
Rachel! My heart began to pound. Where were the changes beginning? I had to be changing! I felt my face. Waited for the shift in the shape that I knew had to come. Nothing. I could only feel Cassie's face under my brown fingers.  
  
"Rachel!" I whispered, my voice – no, Cassie's voice – hoarse from sleep and emotion. I cleared my throat. "Rachel!" I repeated.  
  
I shut my eyes tight. Pictured myself. Concentrated. An instant headache exploded as I bent all my will to concentration. Rachel. Rachel. I had to go back to being Rachel.  
  
I opened my eyes. I looked down at myself.  
  
Cassie.  
  
I was still Cassie.  
  
"No," I whispered. "Rachel! No! Rachel! RACHEL!" My voice rose into a hysterical scream. "RACHEL!!"  
  
"Cassie! Cassie, what's wrong, what's the matter!?" Cassie's parents were up in a flash, closing in on me. "What about Rachel? Cassie, baby, are you all right? Cassie, look at me! Cassie, I'm here! Look at me!"  
  
"RACHEL!" I screamed. "NO! RACHEL!!"  
  
But I was Cassie.  
  
I wasn't Rachel.  
  
And I never would be again.  
  
"RACHEL!!" 


	4. Chapter Four

I don't remember the next few hours. I was in total shock. I think Cassie's parents packed up the picnic while I sat shaking. I think they sped on the way home. I think Cassie's mom asked me if I was all right too many times to count.  
  
I wasn't all right.  
  
I stumbled up the stairs. After I had stopped screaming, I just shut down. I didn't say a word. I entered Cassie's room mindlessly and lay down on the bed. My arm lay at an odd angle, but I didn't move it.  
  
It wasn't my arm anyway. Who cared if it hurt.  
  
I don't know how long I lay there. Maybe I fell asleep. I couldn't think. There was a spot on the wall that's burned into my memory. I stared at it for hours on end, not moving, barely breathing.  
  
No.  
  
Trapped?  
  
As Cassie?  
  
No.  
  
I wasn't even a bear or a bird, like Tobias. I was just a human. An ordinary, helpless human.  
  
Back to before.  
  
Trapped?  
  
No.  
  
Not as a human.  
  
My thoughts spiraled downwards in a hopeless, helpless vortex. My lips twitched, and the spot on the wall seemed to dance. It was a horse's head. No, it was a gun. A horse's head again.  
  
Like Horace.  
  
I shuddered, and the arm that lay in front of me prickled in goose bumps. I couldn't be . . . not really. I thought of myself again. Rachel. Concentrated.  
  
No change. Trapped.  
  
Human forever?  
  
No.  
  
The shadows moved across the wall as hours crawled like flies over my skin. The spot was beginning to blend with the wall in the gloom. I was still laying in the same spot. I had lost feeling in my arm. Cassie's arm. My arm. Then I felt a breeze from the open window touch my skin, and there was a soft rustle, and a thump.  
  
Rachel, are you asleep?  
  
I lay still.  
  
You'd just better be keeping an eye on the time, she chided softly, in the tone one uses when speaking to a sleeper. Then I heard the very faint, wet, unnatural sounds that accompany morphing.  
  
Footsteps as she crossed the room and checked to make sure the door was locked. "Oh, man, Rachel," she breathed happily, "I had the best day. You won't believe this, but I actually got to meet Edda Norrington. I talked to her for about fifteen minutes! And she liked me!"  
  
I couldn't find the spot on the wall in the dim light.  
  
"Rachel?"  
  
Where was it?  
  
"Rachel, you can morph out now."  
  
"No," I croaked, my voice strangled from disuse. "No, I can't."  
  
She heard it in my voice. Cassie always could read me. She grew still. "What do you mean?" she asked slowly.  
  
I rolled over lifelessly, like a body being turned by a wave. I regarded her through her own eyes.  
  
"It isn't . . ." she faltered. "I mean, you're not . . ."  
  
I stared at her.  
  
"Oh, gosh, Rachel, no!"  
  
I lay unmoving as Cassie took it in. As Cassie comforted me. As Cassie promised that there would be some way to escape it. After all, she reasoned, Tobias could morph again. She had escaped her fate as a caterpillar. Surely this was temporary.  
  
I smiled dully. "Yeah. I'm sure it is, Cassie. It's temporary." I did not believe the words. I said them to comfort her. It was strange to hear her low, sweet voice come out of my mouth.  
  
She sat back on her bed. She looked at me. For once, we were eye level. She didn't have to tilt her head back to see my face.  
  
"But what do we do for now?" I asked.  
  
Cassie looked down at her hands. "I guess . . . we call Jake."  
  
I smiled for the second time. "He'll be happy with us." 


End file.
